I attended a concert of classical music this evening. The final piece, “Ode to Lord Buckley,” composed by David Amram, was written after the death of the titular entertainer. Amram knew him well. What follows is a scant account of the performance’s sublimity, composed by myself. The saxophonist scoops notes penned in memoriam and hurls … More On Hearing Notes Composed in Mourning
I want your Kevlar skin— evolutionarily engineered to banish the blades, the bullets, the bad omens. I want your ‘fuck the world’ attitude you sport the known, flawed self—unhindered by inevitable judgement no blood loss no bullshit no brown nose no nothing but grit and gums and safety pins because they owe you, not the … More Envy
A red glow washed over the amorphous designs on the table. Thin, bent tubes housing neon bordered the metallic siding. She sat in the hollow space carved out by the fish tank wall wrapping behind their customary booth. He hadn’t answered her question, the question she had asked him her to pose. She knew he … More Burning the Tracks
It is a little-known fact that when you look at the back of a movie poster you see a mirror image of the picture on the front. The same goes for how the images look when you stand behind the movie screen itself. Spend enough time in the seats of a cinema, and you will … More Cinematic
The limp expression on his face was nothing new, but it still tore gently into Monica’s chest each time she looked at her son. With each tear in the fabric of motherhood, she buried the urge to give up, to send him to another doctor, to admit to the nagging suspicion that she might be … More Fodder for Retrospect
You lay down, out of doors, your back on a grassy bed. You are surrounded by tall trees. You have your eyes open, aimed skyward. No one is around. You wait for it. You listen. Before long, you become aware of a warm, static humming originating from the recess of your mind. Concentrating on the … More An Overcrowded Consciousness
Something’s been holding back the words. It might be the version of me that’ll read these lines one day. Winding me down back roads toward a painted horizon, as fabricated as one on the set of an old western. Pulling my eyes from the one I’m driving towards. Still something’s been holding back the words. … More The You Not Looking
Seize each breath with the satisfaction of knowing that newness is around each and every bend in the day. Pull the air in deeply. Expel it in due rhythm. Attune yourself to the lyrics of the song you’ve never listened to close enough to realize how precisely they describe your current situation. Imprint to your … More Perpetual Discovery
Passing on the opposite side of the road was the third pickup he’d seen that afternoon donning an oversized American flag that waved in the breeze behind the cab. If their attempt was to come off as patriotic, he thought, they might have missed the mark. The giant flag, strung from a 4’’X4’’ wooden post, … More Knee-high by the Fourth of July
All day I have been hearing jazz faintly playing in my room. It does not seep through the wall nor does it rise from the chambers below. The riffs are generated within my mind. My ears glimpse phantom sound waves—unseen, invisible. Their nonexistence will startle me any longer. For I am a music box of … More Jazz in the Attic
